Losing my young life
by LolaGirl14
Summary: We are all flawed in some way.


I sit there with the phone in my hand. I don't move, I cant move. I look at my hand now shaking and wonder how the fuck did we end up here…..

Our wedding had been quiet. I hadn't wanted the hoopla of a big wedding - white dress, meringue dress, big hair, big flowers. I knew me Mum would have me looking like that girl out of that Greek wedding film and I'd have me nan applying layer after layer of blue eyeshadow.

Also for him it was a second wedding, so he didn't want a big deal. In the end we'd quietly married at the registry office in Bath. We'd been happy too happy. They say if you have nothing to worry about, then you do have something to worry about you just don't know it.

Looking back I cant say when I noticed his behaviour was changing. It wasn't a sudden event like happening overnight. It was more measured, like watching something in slow motion. The signs had been there for a long time. For a while I'd not wanted to believe that my amazing husband could be suffering from PTSD but he was, he is. He just wont admit it.

When Elvis had been shot he'd barely slept for a week. Blaming himself for it even though he was not even in the vicinity. He'd slept at the hospital. Him on a chair on one side and Georgie on the other ( _I blink and take a breath shit me, the signs were there even then. The Amazing 3!)._

Then the worst thing that could happen. Azizi going rogue, losing his way and fighting the wrong fight. This cost him his life. I think by that point it may have cost me my marriage I just didn't know it. Then the very worst thing that could happen (I _know right could it get any worse?_ ).

Elvis dying. I mean that flipping idiot being the hero as normal. He couldn't step back and think maybe something was in that bag. Oh no he had to investigate it. Charles already broken blaming himself for Azizi now had Elvis' death to haunt him.

He arrived back to Brize a broken man, saying he had to get out. I would say nothing just listening. By now I had been studying PTSD and I knew this was going to be a long road. We couldn't fix this overnight. I picked up quickly he was distancing himself from me I wanted to talk about how we worked through this situation. I was trying to help my husband get well, he took it as interference. And would scream at me 'didnt' I love him, why was I trying to do this, there was nothing wrong with him'. The more he procrastinated the more I realised I was completely out of my depth. I was a combat medic and yes I was trained to notice changes in patients behaviour when I was doing observations. Dealing with someone completely unstable was new to me, and when it was Charles I had no clue what to do.

I think back to the rows we had am I to blame for this? Did I push him away when he needed me to be more empathic, more understanding of what was happening in his head. The fog that was engulfing him, clouding his judgement, casting a shadow over him, over us.

With Elvis gone he'd felt a responsibility to look out for Georgie. So had I to be honest. I couldn't imagine how she was coping. I didn't think I'd have been able to stay in, look people in the eye everyday and show I was okay with it, I was surviving. You could see it in her eyes though they always betray you. The overwhelming sadness, her heart was broken. Was he her soulmate? Maybe but, I dunno do they even exist?

He came home one day announcing he was off on tour within two weeks. It was to be a lengthy tour taking in Nigeria, Belize and Bangladesh. I'd been ironing when he'd walked in, loitering around the kitchen until he blurted it out. I'd wanted to fling the flipping iron across the room at him. Trying to have a conversation with a heavy hot instrument in your hand is not a good idea. I'd sat down at the kitchen counter as he stood arms folded looking down at the floor.

I remember I was so mad 'Look at me dammit' I'd managed to stutter out trying to remain calm. Trying hard to think how I could change his mind. When he raised his head I knew it was futile. His mind was decided, he'd already spoken to Georgie she was onboard for the medic. 'Yeah of course she bleeding is' I'd said quietly. 'Whats that supposed to mean?' His head once again dropped down as he responded. 'Charles you and Georgie are grieving for Elvis, you both feel guilt over his death. Neither of you could save him and…' I stopped talking as he moved slowly towards me. Sitting across the table from me he'd reached for my hands pulling them to his lips and kissing them gently. 'Molly there is nothing going on I just, I cant explain it. I need to get back out there I need validation that I'm a good soldier. I need to see this tour through and then l can do whatever it is you want me to do. Counselling whatever I'll do it. But now, now I need to go.'

His eyes had pleaded with me and I'd felt my head nod slowly in response. What the hell could I do to stop this catalyst.

—

A few weeks later he was back. Hanging onto life by a thread, as he drifted in and out of consciousness he'd call for me ( _me Georgie he called for me not you)_ but, even then he'd got himself well and deep down I knew he wouldn't stay. I knew that he wouldn't admit whatever was going on in his head. He needed help but, there was nothing I could do and all I could hope was that Georgie was able to look out for him and keep him safe ( _huh go figure_ ). As the weeks drifted by the conversations became one sided. I tried to reason with him. 'You need to stop, this is enough, you can get past this and move on. We can get past this and move on.' All to no avail he'd look over my shoulder to something I couldn't see. Drifting away from me, from us.

Six months later he was on the move again. By now I was wiser, sadder for sure, beaten maybe. I couldn't compete with her. She was protecting him from facing up to reality, to getting well. She was grieving so she needed comfort too. I'd realised that I couldn't compete on a Wednesday afternoon (r _andom I know_ ). I had been parking when I'd seen her, she was crying as left the building but there was something else; she looked stricken. When he had walked out she was gone. He'd said nothing in the car no mention of her. He barely spoke for the rest of the day and to be honest I had neither the strength or the inclination to attempt anything. I'd gone to bed leaving him staring at his phone.

The silence became deafening, the pain became indescribable, the house became a hell hole. Our home that had once been so happy was now the focus of our despair. He was moody, sulky non-communicative. I monitored his every move expecting him to disappear and meet her. But, it didn't happen. Too soon it was time for him to go. For the first time in months we had made love he had reached for me and kept saying my name over and over again. He had cried apologising for being so distant and saying he would get help when he came home. This time he would come home for good. He knew he needed to face up to his situation. He wanted to feel happy again. He had fallen asleep wrapped in my arms and for the first time in months I suddenly felt a glimmer of hope.

At Brize he had held me speaking into my hair as he stroked my back. 'I love you, I'll be back in four months we will get through this. I want us to get through this.' I'd whispered 'ditto'. And prayed that his words had meaning.

So what happened between that day when Fingers had yelled across at us 'get a room Bossman.' and we'd all laughed because for a brief moment the Charles I fell in love with had smiled down at me and I had thought we are gonna be okay.

Everyday I worried he had been through too much. I emailed meditations for him to use, I sent him breathing techniques for the moments when he might feel overwhelmed. I sent photos of the garden, Sam, our life. I wanted to remind him what we had. He seemed fine, said all the right things but somehow it rang hollow and I always knew she was close by invading his thoughts.

The phone calls became more distant, random conversations when he spoke to me as though I was someone he had met briefly. When I'd called saying I was going to give Bella the chest of drawers in the spare room he'd responded as though it was a final moment. Cutting me off before I could say anything further.

And back to tonight. I'd been moving the furniture around in the spare room trying to get ready for his return and turn it into a study that maybe he could use as a safe place to retreat to. I didn't have a clue if it would work but I'm willing to try anything right now.

'I want a divorce'

The words hung in the air as I tried to comprehend what had been said.

'Molly?'

'Yeah I'm here. Err I don't know what you want me to say.'

'I've thought long and hard about it. I think its for the best. I 'erm need to move on with life and I think you are holding me back. I don't know maybe I'm holding you back too. I just think its for the best.'

'Right okay. Well sorry Charles that wont work for me. You are my husband you made vows till death do us part an that. So you don't get out of this that easily.'

He sighs deeply and then speaks again. 'I slept with Georgie I'm in love with her.'

The world stops right there and I can hardly breath. I hear him calling my name but I can't speak the words won't form. I manage to hang up on him and sit there stunned. The phone keeps ringing and I know its him but I cant move so how the fuck am I supposed to answer it?

I hear someone screaming in pain and look in the mirror. I realise its me and I fall to the floor clutching that stupid phone as it keeps ringing…..

 **I've been on a long hiatus and am gingerly dipping my toe in the OG world again. In awe of you guys that have kept it going. This popped into my head as I was driving to work yesterday so I just thought I'd write it down.**


End file.
